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The rooms on the western side of the wing had no windows, and were lit only by a few Exit signs. Alex blinked into the ruddy murk in time to see the others filing quickly into the next room. As he rushed to catch up, Alex could hear the shuffling stampede of bony feet behind him.

As the group cleared the next room, Alex yanked the glass door closed behind them. That ought to hold them … he thought. For about three seconds. Empty eye sockets were already gaping at him as he locked the door with his amulet. Leathery hands were already pounding on the glass as he turned to run.

They just needed a few quiet minutes within sight of a portal for his mom to use the Spells. So close to their goal, he got a wild, cornered feeling, knowing that the Spells could kill him. His mom knew that, too. She’d had the Spells for weeks and been unwilling to take that chance. His feelings a jumble, he both hoped and feared she’d risk it now.

He looked up at his mom, one hand clutching the Spells, the other grasping her injured side. He wanted to run alongside her — she’d sacrificed so much for him — but he stayed a few steps behind instead. He wanted even more to protect her.

Behind them, the glass door exploded under some massive, unseen force. The friends ducked their shoulders and entered Room 100 from the opposite side of where they’d left it. Pursued by a wave of mummies and Death Walkers, they could do nothing but rush straight past the last of the portals. Alex exhaled when he saw no sign of the founder as they passed the ruined temple — but he simply hadn’t been looking hard enough. From one shadowy corner, a hovering member of the hive began to beat its wings furiously. The buzz rose to a high-pitched whine.

“Zap it, Ren!” called Alex.

FWOOP!

White light washed the corner clean of shadow and seemed to stun the wasp spirit. It dipped in the air, the outer layer of its body turning to purple vapor. The urgent whine fell back to a buzz, but it was too late. Another wasp turned the corner to join it, and then a dozen more.

Ren let out one more burst of mystic light as covering fire as the friends rushed out of the room. As the thundering stampede of mummies began to merge with the angry hum of swarming spirits, Alex closed and locked the big glass double doors behind them.

They rushed back through the ticket booths, but in front of them lay the wide-open expanse of the Great Hall.

“We’ll never make it across,” said Todtman. “They’ll tear us apart before we get halfway.”

“Behind there,” said Dr. Bauer, pointing to the long counter along the wall where the museum sold memberships and event tickets.

Ren turned and, running backward, released two more blinding flashes at the bodies and souls massing behind the heavy safety-glass doors. If their pursuers saw them slip behind the counter, it was all over.

A moment later, they were all crouched behind the tall, dark counters.

“We need a plan,” said Ren in an insistent, hissy whisper. “We can’t just keep running and hiding.”

“If we stop running and hiding, we’re dead,” said Luke.

The pounding on the big glass doors was turning to a brittle crackling as Todtman crept up alongside Alex and his mom. “You two stay here,” he said.

“What?” said Alex as his mom said, “No!”

He ignored them both. “The nearest portal is right behind you. We will lead them away. Stay quiet and perfectly still until we are gone. Then move fast — and do not fail!”

“But it’s me they’re looking for,” said Dr. Bauer. “Me and the Spells.”

“I know,” said Todtman. He closed his hand around his amulet. His eyes closed and his face reddened with effort. Two shimmering shapes appeared beside him: a boy and a woman, rough approximations of Alex and his mom.

“Whoa,” gasped Alex. He reached out to touch his phantasmal twin, but his hand passed through.

“It is only in your mind,” said Todtman.

Prr-KRISH! The big double doors exploded outward. The crimson light washing the walls left no doubt as to the cause. As bits of safety glass rained down on the tile, the others sprang into action.

“Good luck,” whispered Ren, before slipping out from behind the counter and into harm’s way.

Alex was too stunned to respond and only managed to gasp “Ren” at the spot where she had been. It took everything he had, and his mom’s reassuring hand on his shoulder, to stay still as the others risked their lives leading The Order forces across the Great Hall and into the vast museum beyond.

“Over here!” Alex heard Luke call as he used his speed to lure the lurching mummies and their deathly leaders as far away as possible. “No, over here!” he called as he zoomed farther down the hall.

The strobe-light flash of Ren’s amulet washed the walls, followed by a crimson response from Peshwar. There was a loud explosion, but Alex exhaled as he saw a second flash, this one farther away. He knew that most of The Order’s forces would chase Todtman and his phantoms. He could only hope the old man could stay out of their deadly range.

Just feet away, on the other side of the counter, mummies lurched and spirits buzzed. The big Death Walkers followed in turn, like tanks taking the field after the infantry. But after a few loud and terrifying minutes, the Great Hall fell silent. The others had succeeded in luring the enemies farther into the museum, up its marble stairs and into its masterpiece-filled galleries.

Ren, Todtman, and Luke … They were all risking their lives for this. Alex felt overwhelmed by their bravery, but more than that, he felt an obligation to do his part.

“Let’s go,” he said, helping his mom to her feet.

They had one more shot — bought at great cost — and they could not waste it.

His mom nodded and rose. Their feet crunched through the shattered glass as they approached the first tomb, the stone cracked from where the Walkers had come through. It was dark and quiet inside Room 100. Except for … an ominous and all-too-familiar buzzing.

The founder was still inside the fractured tomb. The oldest Walker had released some of his hive to the chase, but the man himself had found his new nest.

Slowly, very slowly, Alex and his mom backed away from the entrance.

“Where now?” whispered Alex.

“Dendur,” answered his mom.

Eyes wide-open for any more stragglers, they hurried back toward the Temple of Dendur.

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Ta-mesah took one more swipe at Alex’s image only to see his massive hand pass harmlessly through it. He released a ruffled huff that flared his croc nostrils.

“They are illusions,” hissed Peshwar. “Tell us where the real ones are, old man.”

Todtman stood in the shadowy back corner of the room, breathing hard, blood trickling from his nose and split lower lip. All around him, Greek statues bore silent witness to a brave man’s last stand.

Cut off from the exit by two massive Death Walkers, he could run no more. “They are right here,” said Todtman, gesturing to the two phantom figures next to him. “Don’t you see them?”

“I see your crude trick,” rumbled Ta-mesah, eyeing the shimmering shells. “The simple work of a street magician.”

The flickering images vanished, and the smallest of smiles creased Todtman’s froggy features. “Not such a crude trick,” he said as a red glow lit up the room, turning the pale marble statues a garish pink.

The energy dagger grew long and wicked in Peshwar’s hand. Todtman was certain his next words would be his last. “After all,” he said, “it has kept you both here, so far from where you need to be, for so very long.”

Peshwar snarled as she whipped the deadly dagger straight toward him. Todtman tried to leap to the side, but his crippled leg betrayed him one last time. The crackling crimson dagger sank deep into his chest, and a heart that had begun beating some six decades earlier in a small village in Bavaria convulsed and fell still.

His body crumpled to the cold tile floor.